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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209915">Falling</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesscimorene/pseuds/princesscimorene'>princesscimorene</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The L Word: Generation Q (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Lesbian Sex, POV Lesbian Character, POV Original Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 09:29:22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>874</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23209915</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesscimorene/pseuds/princesscimorene</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Rian meets Finley and can't stop thinking about her. Friendship, sex, angst, and love ensues.</p><p>Everything is canon, except the first chapter takes place the morning of S1E8. (Spoiler for the show's finale: Sophie and Finley never hook up.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sarah Finley/OC</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>16</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Falling</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rian's POV</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My brows knit together in concentration as I run through my lines in my head for what feels like the ten millionth time. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I pick up the pace when I see the time. It didn’t take me long to figure out that walking is always faster than driving in this city. I’ve only lived here for about three months but it feels like ages. So far, I’ve gone to nearly twenty auditions just like this one but I still can’t shake the nervous feeling that sits in the pit of my stomach. I turn the corner onto Beverly and fall to the pavement when I’m clipped by a bicycle that skids onto the sidewalk.  </p>
<p>“Oh, fuck dude!” </p>
<p>I look up, dazed, to see my assailant surveying the mess of spilled coffee at her feet. She looks at me, helmet askew atop her messy, blonde hair, with her big, brown eyes widened in fear. </p>
<p>“I am so, so sorry! Are you okay?”  </p>
<p>This girl can’t be much younger than me, but her cutoffs and skinned knees de-age her at first glance. I stand and brush myself off, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. She takes it and hops up, shooting me a huge smile that instantly makes me weak at the knees. She picks up her bike and looks back down at the mess at her feet.  </p>
<p>“My boss is gonna shoot me if I go in without her caffeine fix.” </p>
<p>She looks back up at me, her eyes locking with mine, “For real, are you alright?” </p>
<p>Still dazed, I realize I’m staring at her and haven’t said a word. I re-adjust my bag on my shoulder and smile meekly, “Oh, yeah. I think I’m okay. Are you alright? What happened?” </p>
<p>She grins bashfully, “I’m good. I was trying to take the corner with one hand, with the coffee y’know, and I think there was a bee?” </p>
<p>I laugh, and she smiles wider. </p>
<p>“So I accidentally ramped the curb, and yeah. I’m really sorry. You’re sure I didn’t like, fuck you up?” </p>
<p>I give myself a quick once-over, “Nope, all good here. Your knees are bleeding a bit though.” </p>
<p>She looks down at the damage and shakes her head knowingly, “Ah, the only downside to cutoffs.” </p>
<p>I laugh again and feel my knees go weak again when she smiles, those big eyes gazing into mine.  “Oh, shit!” I exclaim, pulling myself back into reality by checking the time, “I’m going to be so late.” </p>
<p>“Want a ride?” she asks, nodding at the bike, “I swear, normally I’m like, so safe.” </p>
<p>I giggle, “Yeah, that would be great actually. I need to be at Beverly and Wilshire in like less than five minutes.”  </p>
<p>“I got you!”  </p>
<p>She unclips the helmet and hands it to me with a flourish before straddling the bike, gesturing at the rack above the rear tire. I swing my leg over the side before settling onto the small strip of metal behind her. </p>
<p>“Hold on tight.”  </p>
<p>I comply, wrapping my arms around her waist and balancing my feet on the tire’s hub. We take off and fly past the standstill, honking cars and shopping-bag laden pedestrians. The collar of her soft button-down flutters in the wind, but the rest of the shirt clings to her back with sweat. My stomach does flips as I hold on tighter, inhaling her scent as the breeze whips all around us. I fight the urge to rest my cheek on her shoulder blade as she pedals and weaves through traffic. We skid to a stop within minutes, arriving right on time for my audition. I dismount and return the helmet to her, unable to hide my smile as she slides it back over her mop of blonde hair.  </p>
<p>“Thanks for the ride, you really saved my ass.” </p>
<p>She smiles, “Anytime. I’m sorry again for assaulting you.” </p>
<p>She snaps her fingers, and points at me. </p>
<p>“Let me make it up to you! Can I buy you dinner tonight? I’m just a PA, so y’know, I’m broke, but I have a little extra cash from this other job I picked up last week.” </p>
<p>I return the smile and I can feel myself blushing, “I’d really like that.” </p>
<p>She pulls her phone from her pocket and hands it to me. I add my number to her contacts list and slip it back into her hand. She pockets it again and wipes her palm on her jean-clad thigh, holding it out to me. </p>
<p>“I’m Rian,” I say, smiling. </p>
<p>We shake, and my stomach flips again when our hands meet. </p>
<p>“Finley.”  </p>
<p>Our touch lingers a bit longer than typical formalities, and I can’t stop smiling as I turn to enter the air-conditioned building. I look over my shoulder before I walk through the threshold and see her smiling back at me as she steers the bike back into the endless LA traffic. My phone buzzes in my pocket and I pull it out to see a text from an unknown number that just says: </p>
<p>
  <i>Sup!!</i>
</p>
<p>I can’t hide my grin as I walk up the receptionist with my head held high, feeling pretty damn sure I’m about to nail this audition.</p>
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